Tanner Trilogy 03 - Backstreet Child

by Harry Bowling

  Carrie was very concerned about losing the contract. The short letter from the company merely thanked her for her good service over the years and said that they had been forced to make other arrangements for the future. It was obvious to her that she had been undercut, and that the successful transport firm must have put in a dangerously low bid. But then she had done the same thing herself in the past, just to keep things ticking over until something better came along.

  Carrie learned from one of her drivers who had won the contract. Tom Armfield brought the news in one evening and it both shocked and angered her.

  ‘I saw a Galloway driver unloadin’ at the rum vaults in Tooley Street, Carrie,’ he said. ‘I thought yer’d better know.’

  All the old bad feelings towards the Galloways were rekindled by the news and Carrie was still seething when she talked it over with Joe later that evening. ‘It wouldn’t ’ave mattered if it ’ad bin any ovver firm, but Galloway, it jus’ sticks in me chest like I’ve bin punched,’ she said angrily.

  ‘’E can’t be earnin’, if the bid was lower than yours, surely?’ Joe replied.

  ‘It must be a short-term contract, until they sort out where the imports are bein’ switched to,’ Carrie remarked. ‘If Galloway’s got the contract, ’e’ll be more likely ter get the Bristol trade. ’E’ll get the petrol ration ’e needs an’ it’ll open up ovver contracts to an’ from the West Country.’

  ‘If that’s the case, ’e won’t mind runnin’ this contract at a loss,’ Joe said darkly.

  Carrie leaned back in her chair and moved her bare feet nearer the fire. ‘I bet Frank Galloway took a lot o’ comfort when’e got that work, knowin’ ’ow ’e feels about the way I’ve outbid’em in the past,’ she said frowning.

  Joe’s eyes were full of concern as he studied her. ‘Yer not gonna brood on this, are yer?’ he asked. ‘There’s enough ter do now that Jamie’s left an’ Rachel’s goin’ soon.’

  Carrie smiled. ‘Don’t worry, luv, I’m not gonna let it get ter me. I wouldn’t give Galloway the satisfaction,’ she said firmly. ‘The first fing ter do is get somebody ter replace Jamie as soon as we can.’

  Joe stood up and stretched. ‘C’mon, luv, let’s get ter bed, it’s nearly twelve.’

  Carrie took his hand as she got up and he slipped his arm round her waist, then they heard the floor above them creak and Nellie’s voice from the top of the stairs. ‘When yer get a minute, I’d like anuvver cuppa, Carrie. That last one got cold.’

  George Galloway sat facing the young man in uniform whom Mrs Duffin had shown into his large front room. He had shaken the soldier’s hand with a strong grip and then motioned him into a chair while he poured himself a drink. ‘I mus’ say yer favour yer muvver,’ he said, eyeing him closely.

  The young man smiled and returned the gaze. ‘I never saw a photo of me real farvver,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I never knew what’e looked like.’

  George Galloway knew that he was going to say that. ‘I’ve got a picture o’ Geoffrey in uniform,’ he replied, taking the photo from his wallet and passing it over. ‘That was jus’ before Geoff left fer France. ’E was killed soon after.’

  Tony O’Reilly studied the print. ‘’E looks very smart,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yer on embarkation leave, I understand,’ George said, as the young man gave him the photo back. ‘D’yer know where yer goin’?’

  ‘We don’t know fer sure, but it looks like France,’ Tony replied.

  The old man nodded, his rheumy eyes appraising the young soldier. He was a chip off the old block, he thought. He would be about Geoffrey’s height, though not quite so stocky. He had an open face like Geoffrey, too, and there was something in his manner that reminded George of his long-dead son. It was his hands, that was it. Geoffrey used to sit the same way with his hands spread on his knees and his back upright.

  ‘Yer’ll be careful, won’t yer?’ the old man warned him sternly. ‘You’re the only male heir. There’s nobody else apart from you, which brings me ter the business I wanted ter talk ter yer about.’

  Tony sat quietly watching the old man. In her last letter his mother had told him all about her visit to George Galloway. It had been a shock to learn finally who his grandfather was, and to find out that Galloway’s dead son Geoffrey was his real father. Tony felt very uneasy in the old man’s presence. He had never given much thought to who his real father might have been but he knew his mother was anxious that he should finally learn everything about the past and he could understand why. She was slowly dying of consumption and he knew she wanted to make peace with herself. It must have been very hard for her, he thought. She had told him that she had been determined to bring him up without seeking help from the Galloway family, but now that he was of age and going off to war he had a right at least to meet his grandfather.

  ‘If my son ’ad survived the war I would ’ave passed over my business an’ properties to ’im before now,’ George began, ‘but it wasn’t ter be. I’ve got anuvver son, Frank. ’E runs my cartage business but there’s no son from ’is marriage. Between you an’ me there’s very little marriage anyway, as far as I can make out. Frank’s missus is a no-good money-grabber an’ their daughter’s a spoilt little cow. But anyway, that’s of no concern ter you. What I’m sayin’ is, Frank’s bin taken care of. The business is gonna be’is when I’m no longer around. There’s ovver properties that I own, ’owever, an’ I’m not lettin’ that schemin’ whore of a wife of ’is get ’er greedy ’ands on ’em. I’m puttin’ ’em in your name. They’ll be yours when I’m gone.’

  Tony looked shocked. ‘I dunno what ter say,’ he muttered.

  ‘There’s nuffink to say,’ the old man replied, a ghost of a grin touching his lips. ‘When this war’s finally over, I want yer ter fink ’ard about startin’ up on yer own. Yer look a sensible lad who could get on in business, an’ yer’ll ’ave a sight more than I started wiv. Yer’ll get ’elp as well from my solicitor, who also’appens ter be a good friend. If ’e’s still around ’e’ll advise yer, or at least ’is firm will. There’s a clause in the will which allows yer ter sell the properties ter raise the necessary money ter start up. Ter be ’onest wiv yer, there was no legal reason ter put in the clause. Once the properties are yours yer’ll be entitled ter do what yer like wiv ’em. I only put the clause in so that Frank’d know o’ my wishes, that yer got my blessin’ ter sell the properties orf.’

  The young soldier shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said almost inaudibly.

  ‘There’s two conditions I will be insistin’ on,’ Galloway said, staring at him. ‘I want the business to bear the family name, Galloway, an’ I want yer ter promise me yer’ll not start up in a transport business in this area. Is that agreed?’

  Tony could only nod for a moment and then he blew hard as he slumped down in his chair. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ he said in a quiet voice.

  Galloway got up to refill his glass. ‘I’ll want yer promise, lad,’ he said, ‘an’ we’ll drink on it. That’ll be good enough fer me. Geoffrey was a man of ’is word an’ I expect ’is son ter be the same.’

  Billy Sullivan went to Gloucester to see his family once more and on the train going there he wrestled with his problem. Should he tell Annie about the barman’s job he had, or should he wait until he had left? She would have to know sooner or later. Someone would eventually tell her anyway. One thing was certain though. He was going to leave after that weekend. His marriage was at stake, and his health would be too should Terry’s cronies decide to turn on him. The prospect seemed likely, considering the devious game he was playing. Sooner or later the two police inspectors were going to want some results from their efforts. Terry would not be able to palm them off indefinitely.

  The weekend was a very happy time for Billy. The children were delighted to see him and he spent time taking them on walks in the country lanes, his eyes opened to the beautiful scenery everywhere, so unlike the grimy backstreets of Bermondsey. Ann
ie, too, was very happy and during their very brief time together after the children were put to bed she clung to him, her eyes hardly leaving him. Billy realised how much he loved her and how stupid he had been ever to allow Patricia to pierce his armour. She had almost made him forget the treasures he had in Annie and the children, and his jaw muscles tightened as he thought about it.

  It was as he was leaving that he finally told Annie about his job.

  ‘It seemed a good way ter get a few extra shillin’s fer you an’ the kids, luv,’ he said, seeing the worried look on her pretty face.

  ‘That’s not important,’ she replied. ‘What is important is your health. You work hard all day, without working at nights.’

  ‘Well, yer’ve no need ter worry any more,’ Billy said smiling. ‘I’m leavin’. I decided ter pack it in before I came down ter see yer. Danny an’ Iris ’ave bin naggin’ at me ter pop in an’ see ’em a little more often.’

  Annie squeezed his arm and laid her head against him. ‘Make sure you do pack it in, Billy,’ she said quietly. ‘Besides, I don’t want you getting familiar with all those barmaids.’

  Their long, lingering kiss and the feel of Annie’s slim body against his told Billy all he needed to know. Like it or not, the Gordons were going to have to get themselves another barman as from tomorrow, he vowed.

  Maurice Salter had been under considerable pressure from his three daughters to get rid of the remaining blackout material.

  ‘Yer know, Dad, yer just too stupid fer words at times,’ Brenda, his eldest, told him one evening as he sat at the parlour table after work. ‘Fancy comin’ out wiv such a silly story. Who’d be stupid enough ter believe yer in the first place?’

  ‘Bert Jolly did,’ Maurice replied, looking dejected.

  ‘Apart from Bert Jolly,’ Brenda went on. ‘Yer must ’ave realised yer couldn’t get away wiv such a fantastic story. People are gonna find out sooner or later. Christ, yer gonna make it difficult fer us three to ’old our ’eads up around ’ere. “Oh look, there’s the three Salter gels. Their farvver’s a con man,” they’ll say.’

  Barbara, the next eldest, was sitting darning one of her father’s socks and she raised her dark eyes to join in the condemnation. ‘Dad, you really are the limit,’ she scolded him. ‘That Josiah Dawson was a real nasty bit o’ work at one time, accordin’ ter what I’ve ’eard. ’E could get really nasty wiv you if yer not careful.’

  Lily, the youngest, added her piece as she wound her fair hair in a towel. ‘Why don’t yer give ’em their money back?’ she said, looking a little sorry for her beleaguered father. ‘That way they can’t say anyfing. Tell ’em yer sorry.’

  ‘It’s already bin taken care of,’ Maurice told them. ‘I’ve given’em all a double amount o’ material an’ I’ve told ’em that if they’re not satisfied I’ll give ’em a refund. I can’t be no fairer than that, now can I?’

  ‘But what about Josiah?’ Brenda asked. ‘ ’E’s gonna be upset when yer ask ’im fer yer commission back.’

  Maurice knew that there was no way the Page Street warden was going to part with his hard-earned commission, whatever else happened, and he started to look even more dejected as he slouched at the table.

  Lily was always the one who showed her affection most and she came over and put her arm round his neck. ‘Poor Dad,’ she purred. ‘Yer was only tryin’ to earn a few coppers extra.’

  ‘Don’t encourage ’im, Lil, ’e’ll be sellin’ orf the ’ome next,’ Brenda said scathingly.

  Maurice drew breath. He had been negotiating the sale of his piano for the past few weeks but without much success, apart from one possible buyer. It seemed that no one wanted uprights these days. It was a good piano too, he thought. Not a mark on it, a useless bit of good-condition furniture that took up most of the parlour. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the girls bothered to play it now and again. That would have been a reason to hang on to it. Brenda played fairly well, and Barbara could knock out a tune or two. Young Robert played it really well, but he was in the RAF now and had other things on his mind. Just as well to get rid of it, Maurice thought.

  As if to mock him, Brenda sat down at the piano for the first time in ages and started tinkling.

  ‘’Ere, Bren, play “ ’Ome sweet ’Ome”,’ Lily requested.

  ‘’Ow’s it go?’ Brenda asked.

  ‘No knocker on the door, no carpet on the floor, ours is an’appy ’ouse, ours is,’ Lily sang.

  Maurice was beginning to feel like the world was against him. He had arranged for the prospective buyer to come and look at the piano later that evening, and he felt that maybe it was time for him to slip up to the Kings Arms for a pint or two.

  ‘’Ere, can yer play “Broker’s Man”?’ Lily asked.

  Brenda gave her younger sister a blinding look. ‘Where did yer learn all these stupid songs?’

  Lily leaned her elbow on the table and studied her fingernails. ‘They’re not stupid, they’re funny,’ she said, looking aggrieved.

  ‘Go on then, sing it an’ I’ll play it,’ Brenda told her.

  Lily stood up straight and gave a short bow to Maurice as he left the room:

  Down came the poker on ’is nut,

  An’ the leg of an old armchair,

  They shouted murder an’ police,

  But there wasn’t no policemen there.

  Up came one wiv the fryin’-pan,

  An’ anuvver wiv the leg of a chair,

  An’ they played chimmy-chase all round the place,

  Wiv the poor ole broker’s man.

  Maurice could hear the loud giggling as he hurried from the house, hoping that the prospective buyer might suddenly have changed his mind.

  ‘Yer know, we do go on at Dad, an’ ’e’s a real love,’ Lily remarked later that evening.

  ‘Look, Lil, we all love ’im, but ’e’s gotta be told,’ Brenda replied. ‘’E’s got about as much chance o’ makin’ money wiv ’is buyin’ an’ sellin’ as Barbara ’ere ’as o’ datin’ Ronald Colman.’

  Barbara stood up and flaunted herself in front of her two sisters, her hand on her hip and her lips pouting. ‘Ronald Colman wouldn’t be able ter resist my charms,’ she purred, as the other two fell about laughing. The first timid knock on the door went unheard by the giggling girls, but they heard the louder knock.

  ‘Be careful, Brenda, it could be anybody,’ Lily warned her.

  Brenda opened the front door to a diminutive-looking man wearing a mackintosh and a bowler hat. ‘Yes?’

  The man coughed nervously. ‘Er, I’ve come to see the item,’ he replied in a cultured voice.

  ‘Yer’ll be wantin’ ter see me dad, but ’e’s gone out,’ Brenda told him.

  ‘Mr Salter did say this evening,’ the man replied. ‘He said he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. Never mind, perhaps I’d better come back another time.’ He touched his hat.

  Brenda felt a little sorry for him. ‘Look, Mr, er . . .’

  ‘Mr Forbes,’ the man said quickly.

  ‘Well, Mr Forbes, I don’t know what me dad’s told yer, but it ain’t exactly first quality,’ she informed him.

  ‘He did say I wouldn’t be disappointed,’ Mr Forbes said, stroking his chin.

  ‘Did ’e tell yer it came from China?’ Brenda asked him.

  ‘No, as a matter of fact he didn’t,’ the man replied, looking surprised.

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she sighed.

  ‘Mr Salter did say that he’d be well rid of it,’ the visitor told her. ‘He said it’s taking up a lot of room and he wouldn’t be asking too much. I can’t afford to pay a lot, but I would like to surprise my wife. She doesn’t ask for much and it would be the ideal gift. It’s her birthday soon, you see. Yes, she’s very talented, is Vera, and she’d enjoy just looking at it, I’m sure.’

  Brenda could not understand how anyone could get any joy from looking at blackout material, but each to their own, she decided. ‘Yer can ’ave a look at it if y
er like,’ she said, feeling sorry for the timid-looking individual. ‘It’s in the scullery. There’s not much of it left I’m afraid. Me dad’s bin cuttin’ bits off of it.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Mr Forbes sighed. ‘I do hope he’s not ruined it. Mr Salter told me it was immaculate. He said that if we could agree a price he would get it delivered by a friend of his who’s got a horse and cart.’

  ‘Where d’yer live?’ Brenda asked. ‘If it’s not too far ’e could pop it round ’imself, it’d be no trouble,’ she said smiling. ‘Or ’e could get on a bus wiv it.’

  Mr Forbes was very puzzled and not a little frightened as Brenda let him in the house. He was even more apprehensive when he saw Lily and Barbara eyeing him as he walked through into the scullery. ‘Where is it?’ he asked.